One Piece at a Time
by Jarreditis
Summary: The Dark Angels are off to investigate a cry for help, to find only a trap! Is the discovery of chaos coincidence, or something more? And just what does it take to wound a god? These questions and more within!
1. Chapter 1

Hello My name is Jarred Whitehorn, (aka Jarreditis, Zombie Lord, Rebound Man, and on one occasion, Cindy) I'm a little new to the writing scene so please be gentle when it comes to your ratings...please? I know there are a lot of die-hard fans of warhammer out there like myself and I hope I can truly pay proper homage to it. this will be a multi-part story so expect more soon, read and enjoy!

I do not own any warhammer industry or do I seek monetary gain, this is all for the fans and an homage to the industry, game, and lifestyle.

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"It is said by some people of the universe, that a god is untouchable. A god is a being that transcends human understanding and is beyond our plane of existence, therefore, nothing below god could harm it. I believe this to be a lie. A god's one true weakness is what it creates, especially when pieces of that god are given to his select followers. The corpse-emperor gave pieces of his essence to the hallowed Primarchs, and they gave their essence, via the geneseed, to we Angels of Death, the Astartes. The pieces are small, but the False Emperor is within us all, as much as I hate to admit it. Though with this, I finally see the one way to defeat the hated False Emperor, one piece at a time."

"Seargent! Watch the rear!" Yelled Hakador as a flurry of las-rounds peppered the walls. Sergeant Wallis turned and returned fire with three hissing blasts of his plasma pistol, the screeches of pain told that all were dead on. Brother Ramusen lifted his bolter and sprayed rounds all down the east corridor, before quickly ducking behind the metal door frame as a collection of las and stubber rounds came back. "we can't keep this up forever," he growled, "by the Lion it's like they were expecting us!" Hakador nodded in agreement, the attacks by these cultists were far too set-in to be coincidence. The Archenemy were always found to be disorganized rabbles when confronted by his squad in his experience, it was then that he thought back to what started this.

The 17th company of the Golden Lions chapter had been fighting hard 2 days straight. It all began with a distress beacon from an outlying Mechanicus outpost, it was a looped message saying only that followers of the Archenemy were attacking and they required assistance. Being the closest ship, the crew of the "Lion's Heart" were sent to investigate the situation. The outpost was on a desert planet in the Hydra quadrant named Fen, it was a desert planet that was used to frequent warp storms, while being far enough to not be destroyed by the turbulent energies it was close enough to still be affected by them, making it an ideal site to study the mutating effects of the warp. Sergeant Wallis thought that this was just one step too close to heresy, was the Warp not the home of the Great Enemy? To study this phenomena may be for the Imperium, but one wrong step could lead to great danger, both physically and morally. Where their brother chapters under the great Primarch Lion El Jonson were secretive, The Golden Lions were very forthright in their endeavors, not a one of them thought tis could be a trap, for doubt in the Emperor or his servants was to doubt themselves.

As soon as they came within vox range of the planet there came a slience, which was strange, for it wasn' just that the messages stopped, but that there wasn't so much as a single hiss of static. After tests by the tech-marines on board, they found that they still worked of course (since anything else would insult their skills), but that simply things had gone quiet. After an hour of trying to hail the outpost, chapter Master William ordered the 17th, 18th, and 21st companies to take stormbirds to the surface and investigate. The 17th was lead by sergeant Wallis to lead as the tactical squad, the 18th was lead by captain Hakador, a stern assault marine leader, and the 21st, or better known as the "Holy Hammers" was lead by seargent Sven of the Golden Lion's terminators. William gave each of them their orders and sent them out to the outpost's location wih a fond farewell.

The moment the ramp went down and seargent Wallis feet touched the landing pad things went wrong. 2 krak missiles impacted with his stormbird and it exploded in a ball of flame, tossing he and his men in all directions, the same had happened to the other stormbirds. Hakadors ship was blasted from the landing pad taking his squad of 12 with it, Sven's squad's weight seemed to save them, the bird blew but he and his men just fell through the bottom to land on the ferrocrete pad, storm bolters at the ready and power fists crackling with energy, with Sven at the head with a thunder hammer and storm shield. Wallis looked at the broken wreckage of the stormbirds, their near-black green hulls edged in gold burning and twisted. The cause of this were the figures in purple rags perched on a comm-sat tower frantically reloading their weapons. Hakador was the first to see them and roared like a wounded animal and flew at them with his jump pack roaring with him, letting loose with his bolt pistol and holding his power axe high. The assailants were too slow with reloading and stood no chance against the angry fireball of death tearing into them. Hakador was like a frenzied lumberjack and his foes became naught but firewood before him, when only one was left, pleading and groveling in a guttural tongue, Hakador simply looked at him and for a brief moment, he thought of gifting the wretch with mercy, before seeing the foul eight pointed star of Chaos branded above his left eye, without hesitation he grabbed the cultist by the throat and impaled him on the head spike of his axe. The assault marine Sergeant turned to his fellows and yelled down,

"I believe we'll have our work cut out for us this day my brothers!"


	2. Chapter 2

Welcome to chapter 2! If you've made it through chapter 1 you've done a fine job, if not, you have problems with order don't you? Anyway, thanks for still reading and I hope you stay tuned for the chapter's entirety

"Solam, Brund, Kale, and Jon didn't make it my lord." Krell told his commander tryong hard not to let his voice quaver, "Everyone else has only a few bumps and scrapes, the poor bastards were just in the wrong seats at the wrong time, sir." Hakador placed his face in his palm and took a deep breath before replying. "Thank you Krell, We'll have Wallis' Apothecary look to retrieving what gene-seed he can recover. I'll make sure they are all given full battle honors." The Sergeant looked around at the scene around him. Wallis and his men had come out virtually unscathed, except for one who's leg had been impaled by a large shard of the landing gear, their ship had had fallen onto the far side of the landing pad pretty soundly though it's left engine had been blown to bits. Sven and his Terminators had gone through worse with their Bird blown to smithereens, though they hadn't taken so much as a scratch to their armor, which Hakador had to grudgingly admire. Hakador himself did not like the idea of being trapped in such armor, so heavy and leaving you with little to no agility, he much more preferred the speed aand charging power of his jump jets. "Hakador! Sven! Come over here!" Wallis yelled to him, standing next to doorway that led to a stairwell. What could he want, wondered the Sergeant as he trod over? When all had convened Wallis gave them the news, "Alright, well at least we know what we're fighting here. It seems the forces of Chaos has reared it's ugly head, I believe they've taken over the whole station, which explains how we were ambushed." He gestured down the stairs with his power sword, "Since we don't have a means to hail the 'Lion's Heart', and not enough working parts for another Bird, I propose we take the fight to the enemy and take control of its comms station. If they can send the looping message we can at least call an SOS. Any objections?" No one gave any complaints and led by Sellis the standard bearer, the flag showing a golden lion on a field of green led the way into the darkness.

The corridors were surprisingly large, allowing the Space Marines to march 3 abreast, Wallis's marines marched ahead, Hakador's men in the middle and Sven's Terminators brought up the rear. Sven's hammer tapped impatiently against his thigh-plate as he growled in his harsh, scratchy voice, "I though Wallis said this place was taken over? Where are the scum? My poor hammer is getting rusty over here!" "Be patient Sven! We'll be ankle-deep in heretic blood soon enough." Hadador replied over his shoulder as he marched on. The facility was in good shape, the walls were all ferro-crete with all manner of pipes and wires running in and out, the lighting and was bright and fluorescent. Not a thing out of place, thought the Assault Sergeant suspiciously, wasn't this place attacked by cultists? Where were the las burns, the holes, the bodies? Where were the the damn Tech-Priests who ran the damn place? As they rounded another corner Sellis called a halt, and ushered the captains forward. What Hakador saw then answered all his old questions. This new corridor was lined with the bodies of the dead. Hundreds of bodies were nailed to the either walls, their blood used to mark eight lines of sigls from their heads, at least the outlines of their heads anyway, for each victim's head had been removed with an almost surgical cut. Every body had signs of battle and brutality upon them, stab wounds and las burns peppered sporadically into them, all of the female bodies had thleft beast cut from them and the other exposed with runes cut into them. There was no mistaking or questioning if Chaos had its claws in this. When all the Space Marines had filed into this corridor, hell exploded onto them. From the right side a full tide of purple-ragged cultists burst from the connecting halls and opened fire from the front rank with grenade-launchers and las-rifles. One grenade impacted directly with the helmet of Wallis' man with the wounded leg and exploded, leaving a crater of blood and smoke where a face oce was."Lions open fire and switch rank after each clip! Retreat slow!" Wallis roared as he fired his plasma pistol into the enemy horde. "there's your enemy Sven." Hakador muttered as he backed up waiting for his turn to return fire on those who slew his Battle-Brothers.

Eventually the group had reached a chamber that held four ways in and out, it looked like some kind of Arbites chamber for security purposes, acting as a hub for 4 identical corridors like the one they had left, each lined with headless corpses like before, and from each it seemed like the same amount of cultists charged down these as well. Sven and his 4 Terminators took the south door, Wallis and 5 of his men took the west door and had the other 3 join with Krell and 3 Assault Marines to man the north door, leaving Hakador and his remaining 4 marines to take the east corridor. It wasn't that the cultists were hard to kill, a single shell could easily kill 1 or even 2 at a time, or fear of the enemy's firepower, their armor was hard adamantium, near impregnable. The real question of this battle was ammunition and numbers. If the marines ran out of shells, each Marine had a chainsword and combat knife, but even they could succumb to fatigue. Who would win, quantity or quality? The battle went well, for two hours they had kept the enemy at bay with frag grenades and bolters. The vile Chaos worshippers shrieked and growled in their guttural tongue a thousand curses and benedictions to their gods. Hakador spent clip after clip of bolter rounds blasting intohis unholy foes with a reckless abandon, all his brothers did the same, for even a second without firing meant a hundred shots from the foe. One of Sven's Terminators fell to a missile from a howling mutant with three eyes, he was quickly cut down by the others' storm bolters. Wallis ripped off his bandolier of frag grenades, primed them and threw them into the midst of the heretics, blasting them into a great red mist of blood, bloody chunks had to be wiped from his eye-pieces and his breastplate afterward. At that point the enemy backed into the side hallways, leaving the marines with a few moments of safety, and their dead comrades to rot on the floor. Wallis couldn't count the corpses, there were just so many, when they spent all that time walking through the building, how had they not heard the enemy coming? By the Emperor, with so many cultists just on the floor they should have heard just their breathing 10 minutes from the get-go! "Come back here you cowards! Try fighting with honor and face my hammer!" Sven roared at their retreating backs with relish. Why are they retreating, wondered Hakador? They have the numbers and they have us in the perfect spot for an assault, why let us rest? With a rattle chains and the shuffle of dead feet, Hakador's questions were answered with a horrifying clarity.


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry this took so long to update, the sad reality of reality is that it exists to tie up time.

With the sound of tearing flesh and cracking bone the cultists' retreat became all too horrifyingly clear. The dead, once crucified to the walls, were ripping free of their restraints. From the bloody holes where their heads were decapitated, a foul miasma of purple gas flowed out and as though a glass mould of their missing heads was on each, the gas was held around the wound with six bright lights flowing within.

"By the Lion… what manner of blasphemous sorcery is this?" Hakador gasped as the shambling legion crawled forth. He was not used to sorcery, he had seen it few times on the battlefield, where his chapter had fought mainly Orks in their history.

"They're coming from here too!" yelled Sven, as Wallis and Krell both acknowledged the blasphemy encroaching their positions as well. "This changes nothing, keep to your fire patterns! Be wary, and ready melee weapons should they get closer." Hakador ordered this as he fired the last 4 blasts of his plasma pistol's energy cell. Damn.. one left, he realized. "Ammo check!" he snapped as he clicked another power cell in place.

The men took a quick count as the undead mass converged on them, from the count they had barely enough to handle a tenth of the creatures before them. The horde shambled on as they poured their last remaining rounds into them. The undead made nary a sound as they were blasted apart, which unsettled the Marines who were so used to the howls of pain usually associated with such carnage. As the creatures fell, the gases within belched out in a heave through all it's wounds and the lights within winked out of existence. The more that fell, the more the corridor darkened and began to blind the stalwart marines. The gases had a musky scent to them that left the Space Marines light headed.

"Damn it! I can't see them any more!" Krell yelled as he threw now empty bolter to the ground. The corridors had gone black as night, leaving the defenders blindly firing, eventually the clicking of empty cartridges resounded in the small Arbites bunker.

"Time for some REAL combat!' Sven whooped with his men as his terminators threw down their empty storm bolters and unslung their storm hammers. "Wait! Quiet! Listen!" Wallis yelled as he cocked his helmeted head toward the door. Everyone stopped and heard nothing…. Not a rustle of rags, not a slap of naked feet against the floor….nothing..

Krell walked towards the door, his chainsword held at the ready. He took ten steps outside, looked back at his expectant commander and shrugged. "I don't see wh-" before he finished his sentence, 20 dead arms latched onto him and pulled him roaring into the shadows. "Krell!" screamed Nerrin, another of Hakaor's assault marines, he and the remainder of the squad ignited their packs and rushed into the corridor, hacking and slashing with their chainblades, never hearing their commander's orders to stay put.

A spined tentacle reached within the bunker and snatched a member of Wallis's tactical squad, pulling him into the darkness. All semblance of order was lost as two more were taken by dead, mutated appendages, All of the Golden Lions roared and charged out blades at the ready and though Hakador couldn't see the fierce battle, he could hear the screams and flesh tearing that accompanied it.

He let out a frustrated roar and charged after his men. How had they forgotten their discipline? What could have made them forget centuries of training? Hakador felt something brush his shoulder and he lopped it in half with his axe seeing the arterial spray cover his eye lenses.

Things swarmed all around him hidden in darkness, blindly the assault captain swept his axe about, feeling the wonderful crunch of flesh and bone with every swing. He felt a chuckle brew in his throat and allowed it to burst out as he swept it again and felt more of his enemies fall. His axe found something slightly harder than the others and he quickly lashed out, savoring the scream of anguish the puny foe released, who were these ants to stand against him? Who were they to skulk about in the dark and mock his skill? These thoughts angered Hakador as he continued to hew through the foe and he made it known to the enemy his displeasure.

Something with whirring teeth struck his side and knocked him back a step, which he retook with a snarl as he swung his axe where he thought the foe's head was. He laughed maniacally as his axe found purchase and stuck it's glowing head into the foe's face. The screams were euphoria to his ears, they were like a drug that lifted the spirits. When this thought struck him he stopped. Drug…" the muttered word reverberated in his mind with a sour tune. He checked the vitals of his team on his wrist mounted auspex and saw that the heart rates of his men were far above normal. He watched in horror as he watched them flatline one by one, and that on the radar these were the ones closest to each other.

The screams weren't from the cultist undead, they were from his own men! And the miasma around them, it wasn't there to blind them, it was a drug to make them go berserk! As these thoughts all whirled in his mind, a metallic voice snarled to his right,

"Well look who figured it out all on his own."

Hakador whirled to see two glowing, green eyes staring back at him, before a sharp pain hit his gut and sent him into blackness.


	4. Chapter 4

Rumbling…Roaring…the cries of many…

Hakador laid upon a gritty surface, his thoughts were a blur and his mouth was dry and filled with thirst. He twisted to stand but cried out in pain. Something was causing him pain, a deep sharp pain, he tried to focus on it but saw only a world of hazy white.

Light… never-ending white…roaring…cries of... pain?...no…not pain….

Hakador forced his way through the pain and rose to his feet. He bit back a cry of anguish and took stock of his slowly clarifying surroundings. The sand beneath him was the ground basis of the circular pit he had lain within, the walls themselves painted in white and smooth like glass. The only thing the broke the monotony of the wall was a black door… no wait, more like a gate.

Screams of joy and excitement… incoherent babble…tiny shapes thrown down…

As his sight became clearer so did his hearing. He imeadiately saw that the thrusters of his pack were ruined and that a dart was sticking out of his gut, which he wrenched out and threw to the ground. Small rocks and twinkling trinkets fell from above as cheers and cries of excitement assailed his ears. Hakador looked up to see vast rows of ragged robed figures cheering and jostling in the stands of some great ampitheatre. They yelled and roared as they saw him stand and stare at them in confusion.

It was then that he remembered. He remembered what happened in the corridor, he remembered the cultist attack, he remembered the harsh fight to push back the rising horde of the dead, he remembered how he killed his own men. Hakador fell to his knees and cried out a roar of pure pain, imagining the faces of poor Krell, Sarget, and Retten, his poor brothers who died due to foul Chaos sorcery. Though the power of his three lungs was considered great, the crowds around him drowned out his sorrowful cries with their own.

The roar became a chant… of only two words accented by the pounding of feet and weapons against the stone benches..

"Blood Pit! Blood Pit! Blood Pit! Blood Pit!"

"SILENCE!"

The figures in the stands silenced themselves quickly, like a creaking cricket when crushed under a large boot. A floating ring entered the sky, with a large robed figure standing upon it's disc-like form. By this time Hakador's mind had cleared, along with his vision, and his genetically altered eyes were able to pick out every detail of the figure. An adamantium collar stood high on his shoulders, where golden cables snaked out to join with the silver, skull-like helm, Purple robes edged in silver thread covered him from the waist down, an armored cuirass protected his chest with a large power pack with twin dragon heads on the back, rearing and expelling puffs of steam. The adamantium collar had four curving points, where flickering energy played, leaving red flashes on the assault seargent's retinas.

The floating figure unhooked a baroquely fashioned axe and held it to the sky with a flourish. "Ladiiieeees and gentlemeeeen! Loyal followers of Chaos! And esteemed guests from Commorragh, it is I, Sealious Karten, am glad to welcome you to the Blood Pit!" the announcer stopped to savor the applause and cheers of the crowd before continuing. "Today, with the help of you loyal supporters, we the mighty Void Hunters, have caught a most delicious set of prey for your amusement, live Space Marines!" with the final two syllables the speaker pointed his weapon's tip to Hakador, incenting another roar of applause from his audience.

"In this corner we have an astartes warrior! A seargent no less! Armed with the Mechanicum's finest weapons, armored in pure adamantium with centuries of training and experience, and let's not forget his genetically altered body, making him a walking engine of destruction." The floating announcer pointed his axe to the black gate with relish as he continued, :Aaaannnnd in this corner, we have in all their bestial glory, the Greenskins!" the black gate clanked open and from within, 5 large orks stepped forth, clad in an assortment of leather and piecemeal scrap armor, and each holding a large cleaver. "These less-than-fine specimens are known for their savagery as well as their fine mobbing abilities, brutish strength, and of course their smell. So tell me folks…" Sealious shrugged dramatically and turned in a circle with his head cocked, "who's it gonna be? Whose blood will feed us tonight? Whose blood will soak the sands? Let's find out!" a gong rang out and echoed in the coliseum bringing another resounding cheer from the crowd. "BEGIN!"

The lead ork roared, hefted it's cleaver and charged, kicking up tufts of sand and frothing at the mouth. Through more reflex than thought, Hakador fell into a battle stance, and found that in the sand next to him lay a chainblade, covered in blood. Hakador swept it up in time to parry a clumsy blow from his foe's cleaver, with a quick pirrouet that belied his large stature, he set the chainblade's teeth into the beast's neckand left the decapitated creature's bleeding form bleeding into the sand. This brought a hush from the crowd, which quickly became another excited cry of jubilation. What animals, thought Hakador, what madness have I fallen into? The other orks took the death of their compatriot none too well, all four hefted their own cleavers and charged forth screaming their own primitive battle cries. Upon closer inspection, the first to charge was the runt of the litter, being barely tall enough to reach the others' shoulders.

Hakador brought his weapon and parried the first few strokes, turned on his heel and hamstringed the third to reach him, blocked another blow from a cleaver longer than his arm, and smashed the pommel into the face of the smallest, breaking it's rotten teeth and breaking it's right tusk. The fallen ork clamped it's enormous teeth onto his right leg like a rabid dog. Hakador barely held onto his balance as he rammed his blade between it's shoulderblades with a snarl, but was then thrown back by a hobnailed boot that sent him skidding in the sands, weaponless and gasping for breath.

The attacker barked a laugh and slapped his remaining ally's back as they advanced on their prone victim. The cries of the crowd had reached an animalistic frenzy, more than one fight that broke out ended in blood, even the flying announcer had fallen silent, wringing the haft of his axe and watching with rapt attention. The orks swung down at hakador repeatedly as he scrambled back in the bloody sand until his hands fell on the cleaver of his first kill. As the larger of the two orcs swung again, hador rolled to the side and jumped to his feet, the enemy's cleaver fell into the body of the headless corpse and became stuck.

Before Hakador could capitalize on this, the other ork with the broken teeth killed the other with a quick slash that took away half of it's head and ripped out the cleaver from the fallen ork. Startled at the turn of events, The assault seargent was almost unprepared for the onslaught of blows the foul alien threw at him. The crowd liked the change of pace and whooped and hollered praises to the depraved creature. Hakador was forced back as hit attacked repeatedly, roaring in it's heathen language, "WAAAAGGGGHH!"

It tried to eviscerate him with it's blades in a scissor motion but Hakador caught them in his gauntleted hands. It occurred to Hakador that the more the crowd cheered the better the ork fought and he smiled. "So," the seargent spat, "you like the glory do you? Too bad it's mine this day!" He pulled back and head butted the creature to the ground, then took both cleavers and rammed them in the dazed beast's chest. As he stood there, watching it's lifeblood seep into the sand, another cheer was raised.

"Well done champion, well done!" Hakador turned to see the announcer had floated down a few feet away from him, and now he could see the runes of heresy that were grafted on to his armor. "Where are my brothers, witch?" Hakador growled walking towards the sorcerer, who was reaching behind his back. Sorcerer Sealious chuckled through the skull like grille of his helm and pointed a strangely glass-like pistol at the space marine, a strange twinkle in his green eye-pieces, and said, "You'll meet them soon champion, you'll meet them first back in your little holding cell, then eventually back out here on the sands, and eventually in death. But first you must rest dear champion." A black dart was fired into Hakador's neck and all became black once more.


	5. Chapter 5

The younger Dark Eldar laughed and clapped as the Mon-keigh slave was dragged away to the black gate at the far end of the arena, his older counterpart raised its large clawed gauntlet over his face and chortled cruelly. They had sat in a large, lavishly decorated private booth overhanging the arena. The young one sat on a large cushioned throne, both emerald green and dark purple while the older more distinguished Dark Eldar stood at its side. A large tray of meats and sweets lay to either side of them, along with two large armored sentinels with white masks and glittering glaives who Jekkal could have sworn had not moved so much as an inch the entire time.

Jekkal, aspiring champion of the Void Hunters, along with the rest of his squad had had the ever so "honorable" task of watching over these xeno charges. Jekkall was armored in great ceramite armor, painted in the green and purple livery of his chapter, the Void Hunters. On his power pack were the impaled heads and skulls of tau, necron, and astartes. Jekkall also wore a cape made from the hide of a Space Wolf captain's favorite wolf, and the horned/grilled helm of n Iron Warrior's champion, while armed with two glowing blades he had taken as trophies from a now permanently dead Necron lord. This aspiring champion and his squad were known as the 'Head Hunters' due to their habit of taking trophies from all their foes. Jekkal snorted derisively as he recalled what Lord Futan had said earlier, "Young one," he had said "profitable business is still business, no matter who we deal with. And I don't care how nice a trophy on of those Incubi's spears would make!" Sure, Jekkall thought, these foul beings had some pretty toys, but why were they making deals and bargains for them when they could simply slaughter the wretched xenos and take them free of charge? Just as he processed that thought and tightened his grip on the twin blades at his hips, the large ponderous forms of Lord Futan in terminator armor and his likewise armored retinue entered the room through the large double doors.

"Ah, esteemed Archon Raiko! I hope you and your…son, enjoyed the show?" this was said through the grille of Lord Futan, as he spread his arms wide with the growl of his armor's servos. The older one turned, his blood red armor was polished to a near mirror sheen, and reminded Jekkal of an insect's carapace. Archon Raiko also wore a cloak of deep purple like vellum, his helm was horned with blades, his face was covered by one that he had apparently ripped from someone else and pinned to the helm's sides, and on his right hand was a gauntlet with long, scythe-like claws. "Yes, commander Futan." he replied in a low, raspy voice. "I see some potential in your latest catch, almost poetic that you enslave your rivals, just to watch them kill for your enjoyment."

The Archon was about to continue when the younger one interrupted, "will there be more like that? I demand to see more Mon-keigh kill things!" The older one snapped something angrily in its hissing language at the younger one. The younger one had his helmet hooked to his side, along with a smoking blade which appeared to be made of bone. It's face was elongated and appeared young, like so many of it's kind, with large black-colored, almond-shaped eyes, his skin was pale and white with a mouth that looked just ready to sneer at any moment. His armor was black and was the same glossy material of the older one except that its plates were edged in green, the same color as his cloak.

Jekkal felt like taking its insolent tongue and pinning it to his trophy wall when Futan laughed warmly as if told a joke. "Don't worry little Coltis, there are more, we caught many with little work, especially since they had worn themselves out trying to kill each other." Futan left his hulking bodyguards at the door and strode past Jekall's squad mates that lined the walls and the white helmed Xenos who finally moved, if only to turn their heads and watch his every footstep, to the balcony and pointed below. "See?" Coltis quickly followed and looked down, much to the older one's frustration who simply followed with a sigh. Down below two more Space Marines were brought out, straining at chains pulled by two large mutants with arms like tree trunks and skin like layered plated of metal. Sorcerer Sealious was floating above, readying another speech to rile the howling masses in the stands.

Seeing that Coltis was once again engrossed in the bloodshed before him, Futan pulled Rokai back, speaking in hushed amiable tones. So another deal eh? Thought Jekkall as he turned to watch the black gate open and release 7 wiry figures with beaked faces and quills coming from the back of their heads. "Stupid Kroot again." he muttered and reigned himself to watch the slaughter about to unfold. We always catch too many of those anyway.

In the end, The Dark Eldar had bought all of the Astartes slaves, 12 Kroot, 20 Orks, and 5 tau fire warriors. Futan watched as their cages were all wheeled up the ramp into the alien ship by more sniveling slaves. He paid the most attention to the one where the astartes were held in a drugged stupor. In return, the Dark Eldar had given a cloaking device for their battle barge, the "Void Serpent"; it used to be "Perturabo's Glory", but was renamed after Lord Jarratious had stolen it from the now-dead Chaos Lord, Haetes. This was a good trade, for they had thrown in 20 dark lances when they learned that their were multiple sergeants among the Astartes captives. All that was left to do was pilot the ship into the warp and move on to a new hunting ground. "A good deal was made this day," he muttered, he turned to look out the view port at the wreckage floating outside, especially at a burning chunk with a white, winged sword, which floated through the void, "a good deal indeed."


End file.
